


Genesis and Revelations

by MeinongsJungleBook



Series: Until All Slag Falls Away [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Visionaries: Knights of the Magical Light (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Bickering, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Drama, Magic, Other, Politics, Relationship Study, Transformer Sparklings, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22558399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinongsJungleBook/pseuds/MeinongsJungleBook
Summary: Starscream and Windblade's problems are numerous - from the political to the personal; from the very small, to the very, very large.
Relationships: Bumblebee & Starscream, Bumblebee/Thundercracker (Transformers), Starscream/Windblade
Series: Until All Slag Falls Away [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1240349
Comments: 43
Kudos: 48





	1. Day 0: Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurobot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurobot/gifts).



> A birthday present for [AuroIsa](https://twitter.com/AuroIsa_yah) <3
> 
> In true IDW spirit, I'm posting the first chapter of the sequel to Cratology before posting the final chapter of Cratology, but unlike with IDW, I can 100% guarantee you that you don't need to read the final chapter of Cratology to understand what's happening in the first chapter of this. The events are entirely unrelated, so don't worry. 
> 
> Cratology obviously diverges from canon during the TAAO Annual, but there are also a few other canon details established before that point that I'm discarding in this series in favour of some of my own ideas. I'll provide an outline of exactly which things differ later on, but one such detail should become apparent in this chapter.

Windblade had been Starscream’s co-ruler for two weeks, and he was starting to reconsider his decision not to have her killed. 

Well. He wasn’t _really_ , which was a testament to how far he’d come over the last few years, considering that she’d decided to use the power he had so graciously granted her to make his life exponentially more difficult. He’d ruled out assassination, but he was still considering a myriad of other schemes to be rid of her and her insufferable, impossible idealism, including conquering a remote world, giving her sovereignty over it, and then losing the spacebridge address. 

Things had been great for the first half of their first week together; their joint approval rating was soaring and they were starting to implement the plans they’d formulated together before election night. But then Starscream had figured that it was necessary to share _some_ of the information he’d been keeping classified during his singular reign so that they could best work together as a unit, and that’s when things had started going wrong. Windblade hadn’t been happy to learn about a few of the things Starscream had been keeping on the downlow, but he really didn’t know what exactly she’d been expecting, after all he’d kept her and Chromia’s little secret under wraps, and it wasn’t like she was special in that regard. Plus, it wasn’t as though he’d told her any of the _actually bad_ stuff. 

As part of her complete overreaction, Windblade had tried to push for more transparency with the public – like a complete fool – which was before she then tried to insist that they spread their power even thinner amongst the infuriating bureaucracy she’d been responsible for trapping them within in the first place. Then she’d launched into all these other criticisms about his leadership style, from complaints about him being rude to their underlings to accusations of him not genuinely caring about the wellbeing of their citizens. Now every single little thing sparked an argument, which was precisely what Starscream had feared when he’d let her and Bee corner him into accepting this insane arrangement. Every day she found at least one new thing to have a go at him about, and today was no different. 

“An absurd suggestion,” Starscream scoffed dismissively, not willing to entertain any more of Windblade’s nonsense. 

_“Not sentencing people to death is absurd?”_ Windblade cried as she threw her hands up in the air. “I didn’t realise that it was absurd to permanently rob a person of any chance to improve themselves.” 

“And what exactly do you suggest we do with our worst criminals? Life-long imprisonment? Have them leach resources off us for billions of years while they rust away in a cell until the end of time? Death would be far kinder,” Starscream replied with morbid conviction. 

“Eukaris, Devisiun and Velocitron are all against capital punishment; by eliminating it from Cybertron we’d be improving our relationships with them!” Windblade insisted. 

“Velocitron doesn’t need the death penalty because they consider getting told their rims are tacky a fate more devastating than death; Devisiun can threaten to split up their combiner pairs instead, and if Eukaris thinks their policy of exile is doing anything to impede their murders and deviants, then they’re deluding themselves. More importantly, none of the colonies have to deal with a population largely composed of war criminals!” Starscream cried in exasperation. 

Windblade made an incredulous noise, “It’s _unbelievable_ that you’d use that as a justification to maintain the death penalty given your own history.” 

Starscream’s optics narrowed as his countenance darkened, “Don't try and talk about what you don’t understand. You weren’t there during the war, you have no comprehension of what some of the people out there are like. They’re not like me; I do what needs to be done, they do what they do because they enjoy it. They’d restart the war for the chance to wallow in the slag. You’re going to have to learn that difference if you’re to survive the position you’ve placed yourself in, because to deal with people like them, you’re going to have to become like me: ready to do what it takes.” 

“Forgive me if I’m not ready to accept that the only way to make these worlds better is to become a callous, paranoid, self-centred liar!" Windblade snapped. 

“Better a self-centred and lying survivor than an idealistic and honest corpse. You call me paranoid, but you’re the one who can’t even trust yourself to use the power you fought to attain. Is that why you’re trying to sabotage us both? Because you’re scared of what your new position is going to turn you into? Well too bad. You made your choice, time to live with it, or else you’re going to die with it,” Starscream snarled. 

“I have no intention of dying, but I have no intention of sinking to your level either. I’m going to make a change for the better by holding to my beliefs, not by abandoning them, and I’m starting by making sure that you can no longer keep us all the dark about Cybertron’s future. See you at the meeting,” Windblade said icily before she turned and stormed out the room. 

Starscream felt his energon boil as he watched her leave, then once the door shut behind her, he scanned the room for something to punch that he hadn’t already broken. But this search was interrupted when his console blipped, and he then groaned when he saw that it was because of an incoming video call from someone he had no interest in speaking to. He considered dismissing it, but knew that he’d only be met with persistence, so with a weary sigh, he took the call, “I haven’t got time for this Thundercracker,” he growled. 

“I just want to know what would be a good time,” Thundercracker pressed, “Windblade’s fit me in to interview her later in the week, but I need your side of the story as well. I need to know all the details of your relationship! How you met, your first impressions of each other, the ways you surprised each other, the ways you challenged each other, the things you taught each other! I need all the highs and lows, the moments of drama, the moments of reflection, the conflict, the resolution! This relationship is going to be the glue that holds the entire second act of our movie together, and I need to make sure it has enough complexity and excitement to keep the audience gripped right up to the shocking climax where you choose to share your power with another bot – the twist none of us saw coming! I need it to be a stunning moment, but it also has to make sense, so I need to learn all about what happened between you and Windblade in the lead up to it.” 

Starscream bristled. So Windblade had found time for an interview had she? Despite how busy they both were. Starscream’s processor raced with all the things she could say to Thundercracker to cast him in a bad light; all the ways she could warp the facts to make him the villain of his own movie while casting herself as the shining hero. 

“You’ll have your interview Thundercracker,” Starscream said through gritted teeth, “and you’ll get _all_ the facts about Windblade, you can be sure of that.” 

“Awesome! When are we booked in?” Thundercracker replied enthusiastically. 

With tremendous irritation and impatience, Starscream opened the calendar on his console and booked Thundercracker into the first free slot he had in the coming days, “There. Done. Happy?” 

“This movie’s going to be a modern classic! The dawn of a renaissance for Cybertronian cinema! It will be an iconic part of the post-war age!” Thundercracker exclaimed. 

“Yeah whatever,” Starscream replied as he cut the call, before he buried his head in his hands and then dragged them down his face in exasperation, “What possessed me to surround myself with these people? If it wasn’t bad enough that I now have Windblade incessantly bombarding me with her sanctimonious scorn, I also have to endure Thundercracker’s unhinged fanaticism. We could never get him to be this committed to The Cause, but now he’s like the Tarn of Stupid Things I Don’t Care About.” 

“This movie is something _you_ asked him to make, about **you**! Since when don’t you care about things that are about you? And anyway, I think Thundercracker is doing better than great; he’s completely rejected Decepticon xenophobia, he’s making new friends, embraced a passion and is living authentically. I’m really, really happy for him, and I think you could probably learn a thing or two from him,” said Bumblebee, a tad defensively. 

“ _Pfft_ , I highly doubt Thundercraker’s unique brand of derangement is anything that can be taught, but don’t worry, once you’ve been brought back to life you can pester the Seeker you clearly prefer and finally leave me to try to get some work done with only one insufferable Autobot harasser to contend with,” Starscream replied with a note of bitterness. 

“...when do you think that will be?” Bumblebee probed tentatively. 

“I have some people in mind to work on it, but I’ve had more immediately pressing things to deal with, namely my Autobot co-ruler trying to drag me down into her spiral of suicidal heroism,” Starscream huffed. 

Bumblebee was quiet for a moment, before he asked, “Starscream, do you really think I’m going to leave you if you bring me back?” 

Starscream gave him a withering look, “If you’re implying that I’m avoiding bringing you back because I’m afraid you’re going to abandon me, then you need to get over yourself.” 

“I never said that,” Bumblebee replied. 

“No but you were implying it, and snooping and prodding at me, as you always, incessantly do. Do you really think I can’t wait to be rid of that?” Starscream sneered. 

“I’m not going to leave you Starscream, because as _difficult_ as you can be sometimes, I care about you too much to ever want to be without you, and I know that as much as you like to pretend otherwise, you care about me too,” said Bumblebee, his voice gentle but firm. 

“ _Ugh_ , is this some kind of Autobot assassination plot to poison me with sickening sentimentality? Between your cloying mawkishness and Windblade’s pompous idealism, I would say death is starting to seem appealing, but it hasn’t managed to get rid of either of you so far,” Starscream whinged dramatically, before his tone then grew slightly more serious. “ _Look_ , I've been genuinely meaning to help you, it’s just that your darling _Windblade_ has been making every step I take a hundred times more complicated, while your precious Thundercracker constantly badgering me for every minute detail of my private life hasn’t made it any easier! But as much as my promises mean anything, I promise I will try to find a way to bring you back, and I’ll keep trying until we can finally be rid of each other.” 

“You won’t be rid of me that easily, but thank you. When I’m back, we can _both_ spend time with Thundercracker; I really think that reconnecting properly will do you both a lot of good, and I can help with that,” Bumblebee said, a wry smile spreading over his face. 

“You’re really in no position to be pushing your luck like this,” Starscream replied flatly. 

Bumblebee grinned, “Oh _Starscream_ , who needs luck when I have you?” 

***

Windblade did her best to focus on the matters at hand at the Council meeting, without letting herself get distracted by the frustrations and resentments she felt for some of the people at the table with her. The main person she was upset with was Starscream – honestly she had no idea why she ever thought this arrangement between the two of them would work. They were basically polar opposites in terms of personalities and values; Windblade wanted to create a fair and equal society where people were treated with compassion and were free to live up to their potentials, and Starscream wanted a dictatorship with himself on top where he could treat others as he pleased. How were they ever meant to reconcile that? 

The two of them had almost devolved into a full-blown screaming match earlier in the meeting during the discussion about what needed to be done with regards to the organics who had annexed part of Cybertron’s underground. Windblade had wanted to send in a diplomatic envoy, something Starscream had agreed with, only he wanted the diplomatic envoy to actually be an infiltration force in disguise that would get past the organics’ energy barrier and secretly put cassette spies in place. The spies would then perform sabotage to either take down the barrier – suffocating the oxygen-breathing organics – or find a way to wipe out the “parasitic invaders” from the inside. Windblade had been outraged at his ragingly speciesist, genocidal suggestion, and if Ironhide hadn’t intervened in the midst of their rising argument to offer a compromise, Windblade felt that she and Starscream’s co-rulership arrangement would have dissolved right there. She still couldn’t help but silently seethe as she listened to Starscream discuss their upcoming visit to Velocitron with Knock Out, his distinctive, raspy voice and imperious tone grating on her sensors almost unbearably. 

Starscream wasn’t the only person at the table whose presence was agitating Windblade however. Her relationship with the Mistress of Flame hadn’t exactly been cordial ever since her exile, and Windblade securing her new position as co-ruler of Cybertron definitely hadn’t improved things. The Mistress hadn’t found a new replacement for her, so she was still acting in Windblade’s former place as delegate to Caminus, making these meetings extra uncomfortable for Windblade, which she figured was probably why the Mistress was taking time with finding her replacement. Something the Mistress had apparently had time for however, was finding a replacement for Rattrap as delegate to Cybertron. Starscream had decided to reassign Rattrap to a position on Eukaris for reasons that Windblade honestly found a bit suspicious (but perhaps she just found anything Starscream did to be suspicious at this point), and the Mistress had taken advantage of the opportunity to push for her first choice for Cybertron’s new delegate: Alpha Trion. The Camiens had gone wild for the idea of having an ancient Prime on the council, as had many of the other voters who had got them elected, since the ones who believed in the Chosen One prophecy generally also believed in the divinity of the Primes. Windblade and Starscream hadn’t wanted one of their first policy decisions while in power together to be to go against something many of their followers were passionately in favour of, so they had little choice but to acquiesce. 

Windblade wasn’t really sure what to make of Alpha Trion. Her experiences with the Primes since coming to Cybertron hadn’t exactly given her the best impression, but Alpha Trion was difficult to read. The overall perception she’d had of him could best be described as “eccentric”, which certainly didn’t pin him down. She couldn’t tell if he and the Mistress of Flame were actually in league together, or if the Mistress had just latched onto him because he was a Prime, in the same way she’d latched onto Optimus. Alpha Trion’s motivations were something she’d have to figure out as they went. 

Finally, Starscream was done going over the details of their Velocitron visit, and Windblade jumped in abruptly with the next topic on the agenda before Starscream had an opportunity to give his version of the story, “ _Belated_ good news – Cybertron is home to new life,” she announced. 

She felt Starscream glower at her while she refused to look at him, and a titter of cheerful excitement went up around the table. 

“Congratulations!” Tigatron exclaimed with a beaming smile. “It’s gladdening to hear that Cybertron is able to bring forth life once again.” 

“Actually, it’s _Camien_ life,” Windblade clarified, “but while Caminus has been able to produce a sparkfield, Camien hot spots are no longer energon enriched enough to reliably support the growth of those sparks into protoforms, so a batch of Camien sparks have been transplanted onto Cybertron,” Windblade watched the Mistress’s face as she spoke, looking for any sign of reaction. _Surely_ the Mistress must have known about this; a precious batch of Camien sparks couldn’t have just vanished without her knowing about it. Whatever the truth, the Mistress’s face gave nothing away. 

Windblade waited for someone to ask the question she was waiting for – when did this happen? A question that she could reply to with _months ago_ , forcing Starscream to have to explain to the Council why he’d decided to keep this secret, and delay the development of the sparks, so he’d finally face _some_ consequences for his incessant secrecy and lying, even if it was just the Council’s probing and ire. 

But that wasn’t the direction the discussion took, “So will these sparks be raised in accordance to Cybertronian or Camien practices?” Obsidian asked. 

Starscream responded with impressive speed, cutting in before anyone else could even think to reply, “The sparks are immigrants to Cybertron, so they will be raised the Cybertronian way.” 

“And what is the Cybertronian way of rearing sparklings?” the Mistress asked coolly, no doubt looking for an angle to ensure their upbringing would be Camien after all. 

Starscream was far less quick to answer this time, looking stumped by the Mistress’s question for a moment, before he replied, “Well, Cybertron has been far more focused on reducing the population rather than increasing it for the last four million years, and during that time the usual policy towards newly built bots was to chuck them out an airlock onto a battlefield and to hope for the best, but obviously that’s no longer applicable. It’s an opportunity to establish a new Cybertronian tradition, for a new age.” 

Windblade cringed at how flippantly Starscream mentioned Cybertron’s abominable treatment of their young. After learning about Starscream’s cold construction, she had done some research, and learnt about how things had become even more unspeakable during the war, with the creation of ‘MTOs’ – bots who had been cold constructed to meet the demands of Cybertron’s conflict. Bots who had been born to die. Windblade noted that a couple of other people at the table looked uncomfortable in reaction to Starscream’s callous comment, and she wondered if Starscream even registered how monstrous that practice had been, or if his brutal life had eroded away capacity he might have had to understand how wrong some things were. 

“I’m afraid Eukaris won’t be able to offer a template for your new tradition from our own practices,” Tigatron said grimly. “Our sparkfield is in one of the neutral areas on Eukaris, and minders from each of the tribes watch over it. When new sparks form, the minders watch over their development, and protect them, but otherwise don’t interfere. Once it becomes clear what sort of beast form a protoform is developing, the minder from the corresponding tribe collects them and takes them to be raised according to the traditions of that tribe. Unfortunately, there have been times when a minder has been thought to be interfering too much with a developing protoform, even if they were just trying to help them, which has provoked the minders from other tribes. The sparkfields have been the source of hostilities between the tribes before, and occasionally...the site of tragedies.” 

An awkward silence descended on the room, which was tactfully broken a moment later by Fireshot, who said in an apologetic tone, “Devisiun won’t be very helpful in that regard either; Devisen protoform development focuses on fostering the bond between combiner pairs, which doesn’t apply to Cybertronian or Camien protoforms.” 

Obsidian chimed in next, “On Carcer, a squad is given the responsibility of seeing a new protoform through the maturation process. They perform drills during key developmental points to heighten reaction times, risk awareness, loyalty, honesty, and overall sense of discipline. It’s the most efficient method of rearing to suit the needs of our society, but I imagine you will have different priorities from us.” 

“Velocitronian protoforms are developed in our labs, under conditions to maximise their fuel efficiency and overall aptitude for speed. You could _certainly_ model yourselves on our practices if you want to advance your civilisation to the next level,” Knock Out said, preening. 

“...ok I _think_ you’re all talking about whatever your equivalent of child-rearing is, in which case I really don’t think Earth has anything to contribute on the subject,” Marissa Faireborn said, putting her hands up in front of her as though to defend herself from any involvement in the conversation. 

With what could almost be called a barely perceptible smirk, the Mistress was the next to speak, “On Caminus, we understand that each spark is a precious blessing from the forge of Solus. Every growing protoform is carefully nurtured by blacksmiths in our nurseries, and when they reach maturity, they are transferred to our nunneries, where they receive fundamental religious and cultural education. Once they are ready, they move on to sororities where they select and learn a trade, before they graduate with both a well-rounded education and a specialisation.” 

It was clear to Windblade what was happening here – none of the other colonies had protoform-rearing practices that were relevant to Cybertron, so the Mistress was presenting the Camien way as the best option, to ensure the sparks would be raised like Camiens, as she had no doubt wanted in the first place. After listening to the alternatives, Windblade had to admit it probably was the best option out of all of them, but as someone who had lived through it, she knew it was far from perfect. 

She remembered being scolded for asking too many questions in her nunnery, after the answers she’d been given hadn’t satisfied her. She hadn’t realised how small they’d made the universe seem until she was finally free to move on from the nunnery to her sorority; it had been such an exciting, liberating experience to finally be given access to new knowledge, questions that didn’t yet have answers, and the opportunity to become whoever she wanted. It was like her first time flying all over again. But it soon became clear that the sororities had their own, more subtle restrictions; there was new knowledge, but taking an interest in too much of it was frowned upon; there were questions that didn’t have answers, but that didn’t mean you were encouraged to go looking for those answers; you had the opportunity to be whoever you wanted to be _in theory_ , but in practice you were _strongly encouraged_ to take certain options. Becoming a Cityspeaker against the preferences of her elders had been the biggest challenge of Windblade’s life before coming to Cybertron. 

She didn’t want Cybertron to be like Caminus. She wanted to create a world where people were _truly_ free. Her relationship with the Mistress was likely already rusted beyond repair, so she didn’t have much to lose by damaging it further. She opened her mouth to advise against modelling their methods directly on any of the colonies, but before she was able to speak, Alpha Trion cut in, “What about returning to the old Cybertronian ways?” 

Windblade had to suppress a smile when she caught a look of surprise and perturbation very briefly flash across the Mistress’s face. Clearly she hadn’t expected her recommendation for Cybertronian delegate to do anything that could subvert her wishes. Starscream turned to Alpha Trion with an air of caution and curiosity, “And what are those exactly?” 

“After my fellow Primes and I united Cybertron, we founded the practice of sharing the sparks from newly ignited hotspots out amongst our tribes; each tribe would elect the most respected amongst them to care for the sparks as they grew to maturity, and then to apprentice and guide them as they found their place on Cybertron. Once they were ready, the young bots could then leave their mentors and strike out on their own, or if they’d gained respect and loyalty towards those who had nurtured and taught them, they could appeal for the formation of a domum endura bond. The young bots would be the genus domum endura of the bond, while the mentors they swore fealty to were their dux domum endura. The high regard dux domum endura received was largely the reason the Senate and Functionists wiped that form of endura bond from history,” Trion explained. 

“Oh?” Starscream prompted, now looking very interested. 

Alpha Trion continued, “If a young bot came to be an honoured member of society, and owed much of that honour to the guidance of their dux domum endura, those dux would be asked to nurture more protoforms, who may have then in turn also sworn their fealty. The most revered dux built up vast webs of genus loyal to them, and had power second only to that of we Primes. Nova was able to endear himself to some of the eminent dux, but he sabotaged others, and once the time of Nominus and the Senate was upon us, they considered the dux too much of a threat to their power, whilst the Functionists considered domum an aberration, as they did the other endura bonds.” 

“What could ever be aberrant about endura bonds?” Windblade asked incredulously. 

“They are bonds and commitments between bots unrelated to their functions. Domum endura bonds were especially perverse to the Functionists, because nobody could ever be certain what alt-mode the protoform they were caring for would come to have. Thus people with a meagre station on the Functionist’s Taxonomy could find themselves dux to bots whose alt-modes granted them vaulted positions. But the Functionists despised domum endura the most for a deeper reason; as a young bot such as yourself may or may not know, protoforms imprint on bots that closely care for them, and often develop some physical resemblance to their caretakers. The Functionists believed that this tainted the purity of Adaptus’s designs, so they petitioned to ensure that protoforms grew with the bare minimum close contact with other bots,” Trion recounted. 

“That’s _disgusting_ ,” Windblade replied, her voice filled with repulsion. 

“It was a cold practice,” Alpha Trion responded, with an ancient sadness that had been dulled by time. 

“And we don’t want to be _cold_ now do we?” Starscream said in a tone that could almost be called cloying. “And this concept of dux domum endura doesn’t sound cold at all – in fact it might be something worth trialling once more, and I volunteer myself for the trial. After all, I was respected enough to be elected into this position _twice_ , and I already take care of the entire Republic, so a single protoform for two to five days shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“These are Camien sparklings, they can take up to eight days to fully develop,” the Mistress cut in curtly. 

“You people don’t like to do anything fast do you? Well whatever, it’s still easy,” replied Starscream flippantly. 

“Becoming dux isn’t just seeing the protoform through its development, it means continuing to guide the young bot towards a purpose in life, and instilling within them with a profound sense of respect and loyalty towards you,” Alpha Trion pointed out. 

“Yeah no problem, I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” Starscream said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Care of sparklings wasn’t given to a single bot; guardianship was always shared among at least two, to ensure the youngling had a variety of influences,” Trion carried on. 

That was when Windblade cut in, “I’ll be the other dux. It only makes sense that if we’re sharing the responsibility of running a republic, we can also share the responsibility of caring for a protoform.” 

Starscream shot her a look of subdued rage, but he had to know that arguing with her on this would cast too much doubt on the strength of their partnership, and at this point that would do them both a lot of individual damage, “This protoform will be raised with the same degree of profound care we take in leading the Republic,” Starscream said, with only a slight hint of fury seeping into his tactful tone. 

“Ah, much like Solus and Liege Maximo were both dux to Cyclonus,” Alpha Trion said wistfully. 

Windblade stared at him in shock, as did the Mistress of Flame. Even the usually unflappable Obsidian and Strika managed to look surprised behind their battlemasks. 

The stunned silence was broken by Starscream, “So it’s decided, I will trial the reintroduction of domum endura to Cybertron. With Windblade. Ok, we’re done,” he said finally, striking his gavel to signify the end of the meeting. 

He then turned his head slightly to Windblade, who sat to the side of him, watching her out of the corner of his optic, silently challenging her to dare overrule him. But she just picked up her own gavel and confirmed the meeting’s conclusion. 

The other attendees of the meeting made their exits, leaving Windblade and Starscream alone in the room. Windblade went to make her own leave, but Starscream seized her arm and held her in place, “I hope you realise that when I offered you a partnership as my co-ruler, it wasn’t an open invitation to force yourself in as a partner in every aspect of my life,” he hissed. 

She yanked her arm from his grip and fixed him with a fierce gaze, “And I hope _you_ realise that this protoform deserves to be given total honesty and freedom to choose their own path, and not be groomed into being your submissive lackey.” 

Starscream gritted his teeth, “And I hope **you** realise that it doesn’t deserve to have its head filled with idealistic nonsense that will get it killed the moment it leaves my care!” 

“I’m going to give them what they, and everyone else, deserves: the truth. And that includes the truth about you,” Windblade said, doing her best to keep her voice level. 

Starscream’s optics flashed dangerously, “You think you know the truth about me, but you know nothing. You don’t even know the truth about yourself. Well, maybe you and the protoform will _both_ learn something valuable from me in the coming days.” 

With that he turned from her and made his exit, leaving Windblade alone in the room, with anxiety churning in her tanks. 

***

Many light years distant from Cybertron, in the absolute frigidity of deep space, a tremendous mass moved at a speed it had no natural right to achieve. Any entities it encountered in its path – from barren asteroids to fleets of manned starships – were swept up by its immense gravitational field, and spiralled inwards towards a colossal, fiery maw. All were consumed and vaporised in vain, as there was only one thing that could sate the profound hunger of this monster that moved through the stars with a singular purpose. 

Unicron was awake. 

Unicron was hungry. 

Unicron was a week away from Cybertron. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, this is the sparkling fic I said I'd never write, although there are certainly a few other things going on in here as well.
> 
> As you may have picked up on, one of the things I'm retconning in this series is _Transformers: Salvation_ , in which Trypticon ends up nurturing the sparklings smuggled to Cybertron from Caminus. So in this Starscream still has control of them, and with Windblade's pressuring, is finally going to allow them to mature.
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to update this fic, since this is the kind of story where I'm going to have to plot out all of the coming chapters in detail before I can write any more, and I'm super busy with a pretty intense project right now. However, I do fully intend to finish this, and Cratology, _eventually_.


	2. Day 1: The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got no interest in exploring Transformer gender in this particular series, but in the Holidays Special the Lost Lighters all automatically referred to the "sparkling" they found as she/her, so I figured that if they could somehow automatically know in canon, they can also mysteriously automatically know in this.
> 
> Also, in case you missed it, I finally got the [last chapter of Cratology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322965/chapters/59588644) up.

Learning that the Camien sparks embedded in the heavily guarded Cybertronian hot spot had been kept in a state of stagnation, so that they were unable to grow into bots, had angered Windblade on a visceral level. It reminded her far too much of how her and her fellow Camiens had been trapped in a stagnant cultural status quo on their slowly wilting world, crushed under the hopeless sense that there was no future for them. She didn’t want any Camien to have to feel that way ever again, especially not on Cybertron, which was supposed to be their salvation. The fact that it was yet another thing Starscream had kept secret had angered her as well – they were Caminus’s offspring after all, and after the hopelessness they’d endured for so long on their barren homeworld, her people deserved to know that they had a future.

All that anger dissolved the moment the freshly harvested sparkling was placed in her hands. Windblade stared at her in awe, and more than a little apprehension; she’d never held a sparkling before, or even seen one close up. The silvery orb was very warm to the touch – almost hot. Her protomesh was so soft that, despite Windblade holding her as delicately as she possibly could, her fingers still sunk into the mesh slightly, leaving shallow imprints, which quickly disappeared when Windblade changed the position of her hands. An overwhelming sense of responsibility overcame Windblade as she looked down at this incredibly precious and delicate thing that had been placed into her care. She was nothing but a spark wrapped in a thin, especially soft layer of protomesh, so Windblade would have to be her armour until she developed her own.

Windblade thought about how this was the closest she’d ever come to touching another bot’s spark – she wasn’t a medic or a high priestess, and she’d never had a conjunx endura, so the situation had never come up. Well…in a sense…she had touched Starscream’s spark. _Not his actual spark_ , but when their minds were linked during his rescue attempt, she had cradled a representation of it, which in turn had represented his core mental essence. It wasn’t the same as touching his _real_ spark, but well, it had certainly been intimate, she couldn’t deny that. Starscream had also been one of the few people to see her own spark, other than medics, the high priestesses, and her amica endura. She hadn’t thought about that when she’d opened her chest to him, as the urgency and desperation of the situation had overwhelmed all other considerations at the time. But now, as she looked down at little life she held gently in her hands, whom both she and Starscream shared the responsibility for guiding and protecting, it occurred to her that the two of them had shared a lot of other important things as well.

She didn’t really know what to call the connection she and Starscream had, she just knew that it was unique, intense, bizarrely intimate, and unlike any relationship she’d had before. She’d grown increasingly frustrated and outright enraged with Starscream over the last two weeks they’d spent as co-rulers, to the point where she’d become convinced that they’d never be able to truly cooperate. Yet, as she held the tiny sparkling to her chest, anything felt possible, and she wanted to see the very best of those possibilities realised. She wanted this little ball of wonder and opportunities to grow into the best and truest version of herself, and she wanted to work with Starscream to make that happen. She wanted to recapture how it had felt on election night, when it seemed like they could achieve so much more together than they ever could apart. They’d deftly danced rings around Elita, while articulating their shared vision for Cybertron with clarity and harmony. This sparkling deserved the same unity and competency in their shared care of her.

“Isn’t she incredible, Starscream?” Windblade said in an awed whisper, which was the friendliest tone she had used while talking to him in the last week.

Starscream gazed at the sparkling silently for a few moments before he replied, “Well she’s certainly…a ball.”

Windblade’s feelings of frustration promptly returned.

“This _ball_ is our future, and perhaps the greatest responsibility we’ll ever have,” she said through gritted teeth.

Starscream looked at her with the expression he usually wore while insulting her intelligence, “How exactly is caring for one bot a greater responsibility than being in charge of multiple planets worth of bots?”

Windblade didn’t even bother to answer his question – it wasn’t as though he’d understand anyway. “I’m scheduled for a meeting with Elita in fifteen minutes,” she told him flatly.

“Well you’re not taking the sparkling anywhere near her,” Starscream responded matter-of-factly.

Windblade continued to grit her teeth; infuriatingly, he had a point – Windblade didn’t want to take the sparkling aboard Carcer. But at the same time, she didn’t want to hand her over to anyone just yet, _especially_ not to Starscream. Unfortunately, it seemed that she didn’t have much of a choice.

With a great deal of reluctance, she gingerly handed the sparkling over to Starscream, and immediately felt a spike of irritation when he held her in a way that seemed far too careless for Windblade’s liking. “ _Take care of her_ ,” she told him in her most no-nonsense tone.

He gave her a withering look, “What exactly do you think we’re even doing here Windblade?”

Windblade was irritated at Starscream, she was irritated at having to visit Carcer, she was irritated that Starscream had made her even more irritated before visiting Carcer so she’d have to put more effort into hiding the fact that she was irritated. With a great deal of effort, she did her best to put on her diplomat’s face as Obsidian met her and her bodyguards; the fact that he was the Carcerian she found the most tolerable did help somewhat, “Co-Chancellor Windblade, the First will attend you in the throne room, please follow me.”

This was the first time she’d been aboard Carcer since the undead Titan invasion. She knew that Vigilem’s consciousness was gone now, she’d seen to that, but being inside his braindead body filled her with a sense of unease unlike any she’d felt before. The Titan was now a reanimated corpse patched up with thousands of other corpses, but as they travelled deeper into it, Windblade wasn’t sure if that was wholly the reason for her growing dread and vague nausea. The place also gave her a strange sense of familiarity that felt deeper than her handful of prior visits could account for; she guessed it would have to have something to do with the weeks Vigilem spent trapped in her mind.

They arrived at the throne room, where Elita sat on her throne of the dead. Her expression gave little away as she granted Windblade a nod of acknowledgement, “Co-Chancellor…so that _is_ the term you and Starscream have decided to use for your reign?”

“I didn’t like any of the titles Starscream wanted, he didn’t like any of the titles I suggested, so we ultimately agreed to a title that neither of us liked,” Windblade internally cursed herself the moment the sardonic comment left her mouth; she shouldn’t be making the weakness of her partnership with Starscream obvious to Elita of all people.

“I have to wonder if such unsatisfying compromises will be the hallmark of your shared leadership,” Elita’s expression remained impassive, but Windblade could just detect the hint of smugness in her tone.

“Then you’ll be relieved to hear that we came to same decision regarding your proposal,” Windblade said, with an undercurrent of ice in her signature diplomatic tone. “While we agree that revitalising Kaon is a worthwhile project that should be started soon, we feel that it should be a cooperative endeavour shared between all member worlds of the Republic, as opposed to being monopolised by Carcer.”

“Were the circumstances different, I would agree,” Elita replied coolly, “but the reality is that the threat of Liege Maximo looms over us all, and our current fortifications will almost certainly prove insufficient to withstand whatever dark vengeance he’s plotting against us. It is imperative that we build further defences in preparation for his return. None of the other colonies have the discipline or drive that we do to build up the required military might in time for his attack.”

“Defences are important yes, but we don’t intend for Kaon to become a military city,” Windblade said firmly. “There has been a push to expand beyond Iacon for some time now, and Kaon presents an ideal opportunity for that. We already have plans in place to make it a home for Cybertron’s citizens, with residences, businesses, industries, and recreational spaces. It will of course have fortifications of its own, but it will be a place where people _live_ , not simply survive.”

“You’ll find that living is a luxury that comes with a steep price, especially when you have enemies at your door,” Elita replied darkly. “Tell me, did this decision stem from your idealism, or Starscream’s pettiness?”

“As I said, we came to the same decision,” Windblade said sharply. That at least, was true, but she didn’t like how close to the mark Elita’s question had been. Windblade had wanted to revitalise Kaon into a bustling metropolis because more space was one of the things a lot of her constituents had wanted, while Starscream hadn’t wanted to go along with Elita’s plan to militarise Kaon precisely because it was her plan.

“And how often do you think your agendas will align like that?” Elita pressed.

“This is not the subject of our meeting,” Windblade all but growled. She had no love for Elita, but she couldn’t quite explain the depths of the loathing she felt stirring in her spark at that moment.

“You did impress me when you first arrived on my ship, which is more than I can say for Starscream,” Elita continued regardless. “I saw you as a potential ally, while Starscream seemed like nothing more than a threat that would have to be neutralised when the time came. I was under the impression that you had a similar point of view, so I was surprised when you chose to align yourself with him. If you’d come to me with a similar offer during the elections, it’s possible we could have come to an arrangement that would have suited us both, and secured a strong and safe future for Cybertron.”

“Starscream may be a liar, but you haven’t exactly been completely forthcoming either,” Windblade replied frankly, “and Starscream and I’s visions for Cybertron are more closely aligned than mine are to yours.”

“Are you sure?” Elita asked, her blue optics fixing Windblade with a piercing stare. “I’ll admit, while I never lied, I did keep things hidden, but with good reason. I’ve also acted ruthlessly, because the greater good demanded it. Everything I’ve ever done has been in the name of protecting our people from the threat of Liege Maximo. Can you say the same for Starscream? He lies and behaves ruthlessly, but for what purpose? Can you tell me what greater goal he has, beyond his own self-interest?”

“You don’t know Starscream as I do,” Windblade replied, knowing it was a weak response, despite its honesty. She had felt the essence of Starscream’s being when their minds had been linked, and it had resonated with her on a deep level, but it wasn’t something she could put into words as a descriptor of Starscream’s character. For all she knew, Starscream _didn’t_ have a motive greater than his own self-interest. She knew there was _some_ kind of good deep down inside of him, but did who someone was deep down matter if that part of them never made its way to the surface?

From the subtle expression that passed across Elita’s face, Windblade could tell that the Carcerian had won that round. “In the ancient past, the Prime of my people murdered the Prime of yours, and ever since we have dedicated our lives to being his jailers in penance for his crime,” she said gravely. “Our existence is devoted to opposing the enemy of your people; this ancient oath binds us. Remember this when you find your other allies failing you.”

“Yes well, I’m exiled from Caminus,” Windblade replied simply, concluding their meeting.

***

Starscream arrived at his office and removed the sparkling from her carrier to take a closer look at her. She was still just a ball, and given how long Camien sparks apparently took to develop, Starscream figured that she could stay just a ball for a good few hours more. He’d only held a small number of sparklings before in his extensive life, which had been during the war when he’d inspected some of the batches of warforged the Decepticons had been developing. At the time he’d just curiously turned the little lumps of protomesh over in his hands as he’d half-listened to the lead blacksmith ramble on about the techniques they were employing to ensure optimal soldiers would be produced.

He vaguely remembered having considered the forging process as something holy in his very, _very_ early youth, when the dissatisfaction with his life and realisation that “knock-offs” like himself were considered inferior first started to hit him. In his naivety he’d been taken in by the Adaptusians and their nonsense; they’d convinced him that if he’d been forged in the image Adaptus had intended for him, he’d be wholly content. Starscream had started to realise that this was all a load of drivel when he discovered that many other bots who were unsatisfied with their stations were forged. He also noticed that the bots who changed their frames were usually forged as well. This was largely because forged bots were typically the ones who could afford it, but all the same, it didn’t make sense that they’d swap their Adaptus-given forms for constructed ones if they were perfectly happy in their original bodies. It was at that point that Starscream had cast aside religion as exploitative rubbish and started focusing on politics and sociology, a path that had eventually led him to the Decepticons. The idea of having a frame that perfectly reflected who he really was had stuck with him, but he no longer viewed the forging process with any sense of mysticism. He now saw it as just another way to build a body; better in some ways, inferior in others.

He gave the protomesh in his hand an experimental poke, his finger sinking into the soft substance, before he felt a slight push back, as though the sparkling was responding to him. When he removed his finger, a small bump appeared where he’d been pressing. Starscream decided he better stop poking in case he encouraged the development of any unsightly growths; it would be deeply unfortunate if he had an ugly genus domum endura to represent him.

He walked over to his desk and gave a sigh to find that, as Thundercracker had promised/threatened in a message to him earlier, the first act of his movie script had been left on the desk, printed out in _paper_ , as a “gift”. The stack of dead trees had partially toppled over, scattering the pages. With a growl, Starscream gathered them back up into a stacked pile and placed the sparkling on top to weigh them down.

As Starscream took a seat, Bumblebee peered at the sparkling curiously, “I wonder what she’s going to look like,” he pondered. “Alpha Trion said that she’ll take on traits from you and Windblade if you keep her close, right? I wonder what bits of each of you she’ll decide to copy.”

“For her own sake, let’s hope she mostly takes after me,” Starscream replied as he activated his console.

“And what exactly is wrong with how Windblade looks?” Bumblebee asked, sounding somewhat offended.

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with how she looks…well, her chin is too smooth…but I’m just saying, if the sparkling has two options, she should take the better one,” Starscream explained.

“I feel you’re forgetting about how she’s supposed to take traits from _both_ of you,” Bee pointed out.

“Well then let’s hope she copies my chin,” Starscream replied, as he pressed a button to let in his first appointment for the day.

The door opened to reveal Wheeljack. The two of them hadn’t had a face to face meeting in a while. After Starscream had found out that Wheeljack and Rattrap had colluded to hide Swindle’s body from him, he’d felt…betrayed. More than that, he’d felt _stupid_. Stupid that he’d ever dared to hope that Wheeljack wouldn’t betray him in one way or another. Then again, maybe it was only fair, since it wasn’t as though he wasn’t hiding plenty of things from Wheeljack as well. Starscream had once told him that he’d tried to never let him down, and he guessed that killing Metalhawk, sending Menasor to attack Caminus, and employing a serial killer mnemosurgeon to rifle through the minds of Deceptions were _probably_ all things Wheeljack would count as “letting him down” (although he wouldn’t have had to do that last one if Wheeljack hadn’t stolen Swindle’s body).

Still, it wasn’t as though Starscream’s secrets had ever directly harmed Wheeljack. Plenty of other people, sure, but not _Wheeljack_. Conversely, Wheeljack’s secret _had_ harmed Starscream by perpetuating those “Swindle Lives” rumours, and why did Wheeljack even make off with the body if he didn’t intend to use it to undermine Starscream in the first place? He’d probably done it to find out if Starscream had been doing anything objectionable…which he had. Did that make it ok? Were they even? Honestly, Starscream wasn’t really sure how friendship was supposed to work…or whatever exactly it was that he had wanted from Wheeljack. Well, it probably wasn’t on the table anymore anyway, but regardless, Wheeljack was a genius and a valuable asset, so Starscream didn’t want him to slip too far from between his fingers. And…he didn’t know, but…after all that had changed, maybe the two of them could have some sort of fresh start, which could become… _something?_

“Wheeljack,” he said, giving a polite nod in greeting, that came off stiffer than he intended.

“Co-Chancellor Starscream,” Wheeljack replied with a warmth that made a daring little tendril of hope start to take form in Starscream’s spark, which was promptly seized and shouted down by his tyrannical paranoia and cynicism.

Starscream was afraid of what might happen inside him emotionally if they got into pleasantries, so he jumped straight to business, “What do you have for me regarding the energon drain?”

“I can tell you it was definitely drained through Hyperspace, but other than that…I don’t have much. I was able to trace a trajectory, but either I got it wrong or whatever sucked up our energon ain’t there anymore. This could either mean that I’m bad at my job, or that our energon bandit was some kind of vessel. Considering how much energon it took, I would think it would at least be as big as a warworld,” Wheeljack told him.

“I don’t suppose you can figure out where this hypothetical supermassive vessel might be now?” Starscream asked with a sigh.

Wheeljack shook his head, “‘Fraid not. There weren’t any signs of a space warp in that area, so if a ship of some kind did pass through there, it must have had stealth tech.”

“What about that terribly foreboding message Vector Sigma attached to the drain? ‘Welcome Death’?” Starscream questioned.

Wheeljack replied with a shrug, “I can’t help you at all there. I don’t think that’s my area…I don’t even know what area that is. Cybertronian history? The psychology of Vector Sigma? You’re asking the wrong guy, but maybe Ironhide will shed some light in his talks with the organics.”

Starscream gave a tired groan, before he said, “I want you to join Ironhide’s team. This has obviously got something to do with that Talisman of theirs, so I want you to take a look at it.”

Wheeljack looked slightly disappointed, “They’ll be a delay on the Hyperprismatic Hyperoscillating Hypercompressor then,” he said, before he perked up slightly, “but I have been meaning to catch up with Ironhide.”

Starscream hesitated for a moment before he added, “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you about…the Crystal City Singularity, could it…go anywhere?”

“Most singularities contain tiny pocket dimensions,” Wheeljack replied, “but you usually won’t find anything that interesting in them, unless you’re a fan of neo-temporal degenerate matter, in which case you should talk to my lab assistant. More rarely, singularities are portals to other parts of space, or other universes. As for the Crystal City Singularity, studying it hasn’t been a priority, other than making sure it’s stable enough not to swallow us all at any moment.”

“I want you to make it a priority,” Starscream said, “er…after the other priorities.”

Wheeljack looked surprised, “Is there something in particular you wanted me to look for?” he asked.

“Find out if it goes anywhere, and…find out if any messages or images or anything like that could be escaping from it. Like…telepathic transmissions, for example,” off to the side of Wheeljack, Starscream saw Bumblebee giving him a gentle smile, his optics shining in a way that made Starscream simultaneously proud and embarrassed.

Wheeljack blinked, “Er…sure,” he replied.

The scientist’s optics fell upon Starscream’s desk, “Is that the sparkling?” he asked, sounding excited.

Starscream took the opportunity to preen, “That’s my ward, the first new Cybertronian of the new age, yes,” Starscream replied as he sprayed some polish onto his fingertips.

Without even asking, Wheeljack plucked the sparkling off the stack of papers and held her up to the light to get a good look at her, “Amazing little balls of natural engineering. You know, a lot of basic Cybertronian science actually comes from early studies of the forging process. Mass-shifting technology was extremely unstable until experiments on sparklings revealed how they safely convert excess energy stored in their sparks’ metaspheres into matter.” The moment after the words left him, Wheeljack suddenly seemed on edge; he froze up, and there was a change in his expression. After a second, he spoke again, his tone far more sombre, and noticeably uneasy, “But it wasn’t right, of course. Nobody should be the subject of experiments without their consent, especially not the most vulnerable of us.”

 _He thinks he just gave me the idea to experiment on the sparklings_ , Starscream realised. It wasn’t as though both sides hadn’t done their share of ethically questionable experimentation during the war, and Starscream had done little to stop it. The one time he’d tried to suggest to Megatron that just maybe, _perhaps_ , doing experiments that turned their own people into rabid monsters was going to cause them more problems in the long term, he was shut down before he even got the words out. Starscream hadn’t intended to do any experiments on the sparklings, beyond standard testing to ensure they were healthy and developing as they should be. Even if ancient Cybertronians hadn’t already probably divined everything useful from their original experiments, Starscream still wouldn’t be inclined to do so. The chance that something worthwhile could be gleaned from subjecting the sparklings to experimentation wasn’t worth the tremendous backlash Starscream would face if said experimentation was ever made known to the public. Starscream already had far too many secrets that would topple him should they see the light, and he wasn’t about to add to the pile without damn good reason.

“Fortunately that’s not a fate any new generation of Cybertronians will ever face again,” said Starscream firmly, as he got up from his desk and plucked the sparkling from Wheeljack’s hands, “not while I’m the one in charge.” Starscream looked down at the sparkling in his grasp – he would ensure she was safe, yet free to live without her future being decided by her alt-mode, method of creation, or the dictates of any maniacal, warmongering demagogue. She would be the first Cybertronian in millions of years to never have to known that repression, and she would be proof that Starscream had always been the rightful ruler of Cybertron. Wheeljack would see. Windblade would see. They’d all see.

***

Wheeljack and Ironhide cruised along Iacon’s streets in their alt-modes, enjoying some rare peace in one another’s company. After Wheeljack had emerged from his regeneration chamber, he had been worried for his friend, who he’d found deep in an existential crisis. However, in the months since, Ironhide’s mood had seen a lot of improvement, and by this point he was pretty much back to being the easy-going, practical Autobot that Wheeljack had grown to love. This was probably largely thanks to Ironhide finding renewed purpose in commanding the Cybertronian Security Force, but Wheeljack liked to think that having him back from the dead had helped.

They arrived at Metroplex’s spacebridge, and passed some time with causal, friendly chit-chat, before the bridge lit up with shimmering light, and two figures emerged: one that was very familiar, the other, not so much.

“Seems you folks can’t give us a moment of Primus-damned peace without calling us back to save your tailpipes again,” said Kup with a grin.

“You didn’t finish the job last time, you old rust bucket!” Ironhide replied with a grin of his own. “We’ve still got a troupe of squatters in our yard and we need you to turn on that classic Kup charm of yours and convince them to either play nice or get out.”

“So, space wizards right?” said the human perched on Kup’s shoulder. “Once upon a time that would have seemed absolutely mad, but now? Well, now it’s a Sunday. Let’s go make nice with these space wizards Kup, and who knows, maybe we’ll ride out of here on a space unicorn trailing space pixie dust.”

Kup gave a laugh, “Ha! I ain’t got a clue what you’re saying kid, but I’m up for it!”

As the three of them, plus the human riding in Kup’s cockpit, drove towards the trespasser’s settlement in the Cybertronian underground, Wheeljack found himself experiencing a mix of high spirits and trepidation. It had been a good day, which had been part of a good couple of weeks, and if there was anything four million years of experience had taught Wheeljack, it was that when things were going this well, they were about to go very, very wrong.


End file.
